The Lair of the Emerald Serpent

Today in this bit of the Wild West of Oz we had a minimum temperature of 22C which is a pleasant change from the string of 25s and 28s.
Strangely, as much as the 40c degree days suck and we have had 14 so far since Christmas, they are not as bad as the days where it stays at 25 plus all night long.
When you get a week of both, then the old brain cells don’t stand a chance.

A max of 22 all year long and not just on this auspicious day would be the perfect weather for this pot bellied python.

Tomorrow’s news will be full of the stories of the lucky babies born on such an auspicious date. Especially the ones who arrived at 2pm or 22.22 on the 24 hour clock.

I like the number 2. I think of it as soft and squishy not sharp and pointy like its neighbours  1 and 3. Four is just a bit too respectable. Literally SO square. Of course 0 is the coolest and squishiest of all.

My muggle incarnation landed with lots of 5s but the serpent version is rather more partial to the very sociable 6 and its satanic relatives.

I am not into numerology at all so I guess it is either a synesthesia thing or something to do with the actual properties of the numbers. The shapes they make - squares, rectangles, triangles, cubes etc.

In the Rider Waite tarot deck, every single one of the fives is the picture of misery.  Even the normally happy cheerful cups.

Alistair Crowley’s Thoth deck 2 of pentacles with the infinite serpent is one of my favourites. Especially the emerald versions.
Much nicer than that stupid medieval juggler on most of the other decks.

On this auspicious day I had planned to answer one of those questions from a recent meme posted by Catness and Reg Flint
“Are you lucky?”

But that was before the old green cells just suddenly crashed because it is very hot and stuffy upstairs where the Big Mac lurks.

I guess the short answer is yes because I was born 3 months early and was stuck in an incubator for ages and in those dinosaur days, the odds of such an early premature baby surviving even six months were a lot less than 50/50.

My parents were also lucky not to be living in the USA when I turned up because my birth would have bankrupted them whether or not I survived.

But I have noticed when I am in the green zone I am very lucky,  when in the red zone very unlucky. Amber and yellow don't seem to have a particular pattern. Yellow of course is always better than orange but not quite as magical as green in spite of its sneaky attempt to move up the pecking order last year.

Time waits for no-one. In the last few weeks, I am not sure when - Da Vinci Rowe - the best cartoonist in the universe has changed his trumpish Twitter icon (which I stole and used for this post) for this new masterpiece. He has also replaced his Twitter banner with the antics of Scomo and other locals

Yes. Just when Joe Biden decided to Make America Boring Again, the pale stale male Old Boy's Club of Oz picked up the trump Wanker baton and ran with it.

The Murdoch rags are now even resorting to bringing Cardinal Pell back into the fold. The creepy crawly got a huge piece of newspaper real estate to write about the real meaning of Easter. My skin crawled just seeing his name. I did read the thing and it was the usual nasty whiny longing for the good old days while bitching about the ABC. I bet the old bugger has got a Louise Milligan voodoo doll somewhere in his Vatican attic

( Weather woes )

It's been a quiet start to the new year over here in the wild west which certainly cannot be said for the east coast of Australia.




The photos and videos are scary enough. So the reality must be very frightening indeed. And now a wicked twist has turned up. Over the last 20 years and especially since the advent of smart phones, the internet has slowly taken over everything. It has become the main source of news and information for so many people. That's OK as long as the lights are on and the mobile phone tower infrastructure is intact. But that is no longer the case in many of the areas affected by the fires. The fires have burned down many power lines and it is far too dangerous to fix them. So even if the mobile phone network is functioning, once the batteries are gone, it has become very difficult to recharge them


The ABC local radio is one of the major sources of disaster information for when apps no longer work but most folks these days don't have old fashioned radios but use their mobile phones for that purpose. So it turns out that one of the most important and resilient channels for information is no longer reaching its intended audience.

My trusty little transistor radio is now more snap, crackle and pop than crisp and clear sound and the Radio National channel to which it is almost permanently tuned is particularly sensitive to dead zones. Basically anywhere with a lot of electrical or electronic activities such as shopping centres or bus stations are veritable dead zones. So I resort more and more to listening to programs as podcasts where the sound is much better and clearer and never just drops out due to loss of signal. But of course audio just eats phone batteries.


There have been people driven to the beach to escape the flames, skies that are pitch black in the middle of the day and trucks and cars just picked up and thrown by the wind. That is how a firefighter died just the other day.

And now Scomo wants to have an all government meeting in March to discuss the catastrophic bush fires. Greg Mullins, one of the country's most experienced firefighters wanted to have a meeting with the Prime Minister LAST March but he wasn't interested back then. Too busy cosying up to his Murdoch mates

Scomo will soon discover that the economy is a 100% fully owned subsidiary of the environment. And when that goes down in ashes and flames, the economy will not be far behind.
Now that even for people who have not lost their homes and everything, the sense of safety and normality has been shattered, shopping and buying stuff is going to be the very last thing on their minds

Strange and scary times indeed

Izzie never ever imagined that it would be necessary to turn on the heater during October. This is Oz after all and we are supposed to be sizzling and certainly not snuggling up, toasting our toes and listening to the howling wind and the rain lashing the window panes.

Just the perfect weather in fact for listening to the radio and catching up on podcasts.

First there was the history of a rather infamous book (I tried to read it many moons ago but it was just too whiny)
I nearly died laughing on hearing a BBC program about it which claimed that "Mein Kampf" is a best seller in India where it is seen as a sort of self help book. How one man began as a down and out doing time in jail to become the leader of a powerful nation in such a short time. The fact that he made things so difficult for the British Empire just adds to the allure. (The enemy of my enemy is my friend and all that)

Or to put it in more modern business jargon
"They see it as a kind of success story where one man can have a vision, work out a plan on how to implement it and then successfully complete it"
source

Then there's the more recent cult courtesy of Old Mr Hubbard. The good old days seem well and truly over with Anonymous and an assortment of whistle blowers spilling the beans on the monstrous cash cow. Unfortunately this program starts at the witching hour of midnight and I've usually fallen asleep half way through it. Of course there's always the podcasts but a serpent needs 9 lives to catch up with all the tasty morsels.

Then there was a fascinating exploration of the subtle difference between scary and creepy

I love the list of dodgy jobs. It will make perfect nanowrimo prompt. This year's sad and sordid story will need to feature at least four of the following occupations with bonus points for all of them.


Clown
Taxidermist
Sex Shop Owner
Funeral Director
Taxi Driver
Priest
Janitor
Garbage Collector
Security Guard
Writer
Actor

Last Saturday was a grey and rainy day. The only motivation to stir the Izzie from her serpent snooze was the Farmer’s markets in Subiaco. Now that I’m working every second Saturday, it would be a shame to waste a free one but there was another more important method to our madness.
Knowing that it is infinitely easier to honour commitments to others rather than to myself, on my previous visit on the Easter weekend I had asked one of the stall holders if she had any saffron bulbs to spare since every other year they have a surplus. Of course they also sell the bright and shiny precious in little glass vials as a side line to the main business which is olive oil.
Several years ago I had bought some bulbs from their stall and was pleased as punch to get my paws on such precious specimens. Following their instructions plus those obtained from the Oracle of Google, I planted the critters and waited patiently. It did not take too long for little green shoots to appear but the flowers never did follow. Izzie was a foolish creature back then and had hogged the precious corms all to herself. I learnt my lesson the hard way when they all shrivelled up and this time decided to reserve one third for Petunia to plant in her own veggie patch. She has magic powers when it comes to green and growing things so this is a sort of insurance policy.

The lady running the stall said that she did not have any bulbs for sale that day but I could order some for the next few weeks before the end of the season. So I chose a specific date and number.
So the thought of six precious saffron bulbs was sufficient motivation to be out and about reasonably early especially since it was 3 years ago since last setting eyes on them.

It was a very pleasant surprise to be handed the little brown paper bag and told that since they were rather small this year we would be getting 12 for the price of 6 but that they would need to be planted pretty quickly. Within a week or two at the most.
Several were already sprouting and some cute little devils had two little horns on the side rather than one at the tip.
They don’t like wet feet and live quite happily in nasty sandy soil. With 8 specimens to play with, there is no need to put all the eggs in one basket so the chances of survival should be greatly increased.

They will most definitely not be sharing beds with the ginger and turmeric which are growing like crazy. They like it hot and wet and are very happy indeed lurking in the Lair.
They will also not be lurking amongst the angel’s trumpets with their bewitching and intoxicating perfumes. Two of them are now displaying their pretty poisonous pendulous petals.
The lavender and cactus patch will be the perfect place to put these precious specimens.

So they will be kept separate from the other green and growing things in little pots of their own that can be moved around according to the weather.

Since this is the time when everything comes to life in the garden, it is essential to make the most of the opportunity to get critters planted and pampered and set up for the nasty stinking sizzle to come at the end of the year.

The serpent has been absent of late. Strange that in the days of having no internet and not even a computer, I was posting far more frequently.
There are just so many distractions these days the worst of which are the dreaded Dementors who paid a very unexpected visit.
March is usually a month that begins with a bang. It is a time of hope and promise as the worst of the sizzling stinking summer is over. There are weeds and seeds to be planted and numerous opportunities to indulge the inner emerald serpent.

Izzie was all chirpy and happy and got lots of stuff done and had all sorts of grand plans. But that all ended in the middle of the month when the weather gods promised and delivered a string of days with a 40 in them with the bonus of some sickly steaming humidity.
February had more than its fair share of 40s but nearly all of them were the dry kind of heat that just makes you thirsty and tired but not totally troppo and grotty. Even Astrofest on Saturday 12th was insufficient to distract this cranky scratchy serpent.
It was a trivial thing but in the midst of the mugginess my wristwatch decided to die. That should be no big deal as there’s always the phone for finding the time. But unlike the young things of today I do not have this infernal object permanently attached to my hand and would constantly need to be looking in my bag to find it. That’s where pockets would come in handy but I don’t have any of those.

So I was running around like a mad March hare constantly worried about being late all the time. Back in 2009 I had a watch die at 6pm on Christmas Eve so it would be another 4 days before there was even a hope of getting a replacement. By then I was so desperate that I went to the first watch shop in the city that I could find and forked out $100 for a new one. I had no time at all for the usual ritual of shopping around and visiting 10 different stores in order to compare prices.
Since then I learned that shops like Target have them in the accessories section and there’s no need to pay more than $25.
That’s just what I did on the Friday evening after work. I could have done so the day before the old grey cells were not even capable of such a simple and logical thought.
Even a couple of sunsets at the beach on the last days of the recent Sculpture by the Sea did not banish the creepy clammy cloaked creatures.
None of the usual weapons worked against them. Sunshine, star gazing and gardening did not banish them. Not even chocolate so the only alternative was to just wait and wait, be a small target and hope they would get bored and go elsewhere. Invariably they always do but by the same token they always return.

The clammy creatures finally departed on Easter Sunday. Which is just as well because a couple of days later the trusty mobile phone started crashing and finally died this evening. I’m pretty peeved at losing all my online Scrabble games but it’s not the complete catastrophe on steroids and end of the world it would have been if the beasties had still been lurking.

I could not help but think of the wise words of Anthony de Mello who claimed that one good way of measuring your spiritual/mental strength is to count the number of times in the course of the day that you become disturbed or upset.
Then there are the toasty glowing times when it feels like being surrounded by a teflon coated shield where an assortment of slings and arrows of outrageous fortune just bounce off and barely cause a scratch.

Maybe contrasting and comparing the two states and watching for the warning signs for each would be a useful exercise in observation and could provide some useful insights.

Nostalgia for grey and rainy wintry Amsterdam is looking very attractive in the last few weeks. The solstice has well and truly unleashed the evil yellow beast and it has graced us with at least 8 sizzling days of over 36 celsius including 3 39s and a rather nasty 41. More of the same is predicted for the coming week so the Izzie has prepared by filling an assortment of plastic bottles to dole out to the prize weeds tomorrow morning so that they don't die of thirst when the serpent is not around to water them.

One good thing is that Christmas and New Year's Eve did not get caught up in the heat wave. But not to worry. Easter is just around the corner. I used to find it totally ridiculous that the supermarkets had the hot cross buns on the shelves for the first shopping day of the new year. Now they have truly excelled themselves and put them out for New Year's Eve. I should have gone and complained to the management about the lack of Easter eggs. (I am sure they will have arrived by the end of this week)

Also been busy planting an assortment of climbing beans with the intention that they will provide shade for their neighbours and cop the brunt of the sunshine.

The fact that every single tree planted since early May is still alive and thriving is a first for this serpent and the plan is to keep things that way. Getting to the end of February with no tree funerals will be the true test of progress.
There are still pecan seedlings popping up all over the place and only one of them has bit the dust.

Today was the first day back at the book store and that New Year's resolution not to add any more to the collection did not last very long.

But most of the other lessons of last year have been learned such as having a regular routine to lurk around the lair watering and looking after the weeds. In summer, either very early morning or between 5-8 in the evening are the best times to be doing stuff in the garden.

It is so much nicer outside in the evening since inside is so hot and stuffy. Even leaving a bunch of windows open to let the breeze through is bugger all use when the weather is all still and clammy.
I cannot really justify getting an air conditioner when there are only about 15 days or so in the year where the ceiling fans alone do not do the trick. It's the times when we have 3 or more days in a row over 36 or when the overnight temperature does not drop below 22 that are the killers. It's then like living in a double brick pizza oven.

Maybe we need to find some more magic beans that will grow and cover all the windows in summer and then die off in autumn.
I guess if I had planted those 3 pecan trees 10 years ago, they would already be doing that.

Yesss. Yesterday is always the best time to plant a tree but today is better than tomorrow.

Today was a time for some serious nostalgia and a visit to the serpent's favourite old lunatic asylum which has been converted into an arts centre.

There's been a bit of a makeover in the garden with a new stage and some tidying up of the wormwood patch which seems to have included removing the wormwood. It sucks when yuppies take over serpent sacred sites.

Out there in the big bad world there's just been so much gloom and doom and creepy crawliness.
If it's not the state government and their mining company minions trashing areas containing significant ancient antiquities then it's that mob in the Middle East smashing old temples and murdering 82 year olds in their zeal to banish from the planet everything that does not reflect their ridiculous and most miserable interpretation of reality.

The idiots in government here then want to use such barbarity as an excuse to indulge in yet more of their own. Instead of bombing Syria back to the stone age maybe they would be of more use allowing some Syrian refugees to come here instead of expecting the European Union to do all the heavy lifting.
It was so weird hearing the news on the 76th anniversary of the start of the second world war that the huddled masses of the world (well the Middle East at least) view Germany as the land of freedom and a fair go. They are literally dying to get there when for so many years it was the place people wanted to escape from.
Just even thinking about those nasty people smugglers' trucks is seriously creepy let alone contemplating how truly desperate one must be to get in them.

Life is such a lottery. I was over in Europe in January this year and could move about freely on planes, trains and trams with no need to be crammed like a sardine and paying exorbitant prices for the privilege yet others who live much nearer to Europe are so unwelcome and go to such desperate measures to get there.

It's one of the most magical times of the year in this bit of Oz. All the wildflowers are presently putting on a most amazing show. Only the most jaded barbarian could fail to appreciate the gorgeousness. Along with the wonderful weeds come the birds with their joyful squawking and cackling. Australia is filled with the most amazing of critters.
Will be off looking at the pretty little critters tomorrow in Kings Park. Was there last Thursday and got to thinking that once a week is simply insufficient at this time of the year.

Even ancient serpents feel the sap rising in early September. Everything is blooming and blossoming and it is wonderful to be alive at this time of year. Magic is afoot.

Izzie has been a busy serpent. There was so much stuff going on in April. All sorts of government gossip and a dreaded certain centenary and a whole bunch of gardening to be done. For most of the month the weather was absolutely gorgeous. It was sunny but not too hot and most of the time there was the delicate light that invites quiet contemplation, pottering amongst the weeds and general contentment with the universe.

Also during two weeks of April there was an invasion of artists from all over the world adorning the city walls with gorgeous murals. Some were so large that the artists used cherry pickers. It was wonderful fun wandering around with the lists and ticking each item off one by one. Since a lot of the walls are a bit off the beaten track and hiding in quirky corners it was a most fascinating way of seeing the suburbs.
One proved to be very inspirational indeed.



Then there was the annual ritual of Camp Nanowrimo for folks who do not want to wait until November to squiggle their stories. So that’s where all the words have been going the last month. Was slacking a bit going for a goal of 33,333 words for the month rather than the usual April quota of 50,000. Just been for a quick visit over at the camp cabins. These are groups of a dozen or so participants who share a ‘campfire’ where they can post snippets of story gossip, offer ideas or encouragement to each other. Well that is the theory anyway.

( April Foolishness )

It’s such a common theme that it’s barely worth mentioning anymore. Most of the great delights in life are random unexpected events while those much anticipated, plotted and planned for turn out to be big disappointments. It seems to be the very act of anticipation itself with its imagining of infinite wonderful possibilities that precipitates the unhappy ending.

Good Friday’s rising moon was a pretty pink thing. In spite of finding a place with a reasonable stretch of horizon facing east and knowing the exact time of the moon rising, I still managed to miss its slink above the horizon. Even with a binoculars I was not able to find it for a good twenty minutes. It was a pale pink blob and easily missed due to the presence of daylight. That was a bit of a disappointment not to catch it crossing the horizon since it’s been a very long time since that has happened. But there were other distractions such as a street filled with spooky fig trees and an old historical cemetery which compensated for such minor disappointments.

( More moonish musings )